Blondie
by Weskette
Summary: "Don't call me that," she hissed.


**Blondie**

"Come on, Blondie. We've got to get moving."

Andrea scowled at the man in front of her. He was the newest addition to the travelling pair of Andrea and Michonne. He was tall, had jet black hair, and his attitude put her in mind of Draco Malfoy from the Harry Potter books she had loved. But the Draco from the first six books, not the one from the seventh. But she didn't remember his name. "Don't call me that," she hissed.

He rolled his eyes. "Why? You're not blond?"

Her frown grew and she found her hand resting on the hunting knife on her belt. "Only one man can call me that, and it's not you."

He laughed without humour. "If you haven't realized, Blondie, there are no other men around. You should count yourself lucky you found me alive."

Andrea gritted her teeth and pulled the knife halfway from it's sheath. "That's what you call yourself? A man? I thought you were a pile of _horse shit_ with a pumpkin on top." She was about to go on, but Michonne stepped in.

"Whoa. Hold it you two. It's bad enough we've got walkers tryin' to kill us. You two don't need to fight too," the black woman reprimanded. "Now let's go." Andrea sighed, trying to calm herself down. The hunting knife returned to it's sheath.

It had been anywhere from three to four months since Andrea had gotten lost in the woods during the walker attack. After Michonne came to the rescue, they had travelled together. They got along pretty well. They had similar jobs back when the world was in order and careers mattered. It became a good friendship where they knew each other well and could tell what the other was thinking. Sort of like sisters.

But this new man, Andrea didn't care for as soon as she saw him. And after he had called her that name, the one that she given as a small piece of herself to a man that was so much better than this... Draco. That's what this new peice of crap guy became to her. Draco. She was tempted to call him Voldemort, but decided against it. Without bothering to learn his name over the first week, she started to call him Draco. She even went as far to call him Malfoy once.

She was joking each time she said one of the names (sort of). But the moment he called her Blondie, she turned angry enough to rival a tasmanian devil. Over the weeks following his arrival, she slowly grew less and less tolerant of him everytime he uttered the name "Blondie". The fourth week after he joined them, she snapped and held a knife to his throat, spitting out a threat that went along the lines of _'cutting out your balls and force feeding them to you'_.

Michonne, who knew Andrea pretty well, knew why she had such little tolerance to the nickname. The blonde had confessed to her there had been a man she had left behind in her last group that had used the name "Blondie" as a term of endearment, the closest he had been able to get to an "I love you". Andrea hadn't minded at all, of course. The man she had fallen for was Daryl Dixon. Of course it'd be different from her past relationships. Daryl was a different man. His heart was buried beneath his past. She had been lucky enough to be considered his girlfriend. She would wake up in the morning and look forward to his murmured, "Mornin', Blondie..." followed by a kiss before sitting up.

But whenever she heard it from Draco's mouth, two things happened. She was reminded of Daryl. And she was reminded she hated hearing the name "Blondie" from anyone but Daryl. Draco didn't deserve to form that name in his mouth and be in any way like Daryl. Only Daryl could call her Blondie. Anyone else better shut the hell up.

A month and a half after Draco (she really hadn't bothered to learn his real name) joined the pair, the trio found themselves on the outskirts of a town near the border of Alabama. It wasn't really a town. More like a small set of maybe four houses and a store. What had caught their attention about it was the ten foot high barbed wire fence that stretched out around the perimeter of the houses. Walkers had cut themselves to ribbons while trying to get over it. What was even more interesting was that the fence was maintained. Someone came out and burnt the dead that had been caught in the barbs.

They walked cautiously around it until the found what seemed to act as a gate. And someone, a live someone, seated on the otherside. They got the man's attention. When he turned, Andrea couldn't help but smile. "Glenn!" she exclaimed.

"Wha- Andrea?" He immediatley drew closer to the gate, staring out at the blonde. "It's been forever!"

"And a day," she agreed. "Can we come in?"

Glenn hesitated. "Are any of you bit?"

Andrea sighed. "No, but if you want, you can lock Draco here out. He's an asshole anyway." Draco rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna trust you..." the Korean mumbled, fumbling with the latch. He opened it just enough for the three to slip in one at a time.

"Is everyone here?" Andrea asked. "Oh, and this is Glenn, you two." Michonne and Draco introduced themselves and Glenn answered Andrea's question.

"Uh, yeah. Minus the people we lost at the ranch."

"Who?"

"Patricia, Shane, Jimmy... And you, really. But you're here now. Did I mention it's good to see you? Alive?"

"You just did," she smiled. "And it's good to see you alive too." She glanced around as they drew closer to the houses. She could see Rick standing at the edge of them, looking their way.

"What'd you find there, Glenn?" Rick asked, clearly surprised to see Andrea.

Glenn shrugged. "Three wanderers."

"It's good to see you again, Andrea," Rick spoke. "Who're your friends?"

Andrea opened her mouth to introduce Michonne and state that Draco was not her friend when she saw a certain hick standing a good twenty feet behind Rick. "Uh... Glenn, could you introduce them? I... I need to go see someone..." She passed Rick, walking at a near jog towards Daryl. He turned and saw her, his jaw dropping slightly.

She was suddenly in front of him, unable to form words. All at once, he pulled her in, crushing her against his chest. "Damn, Blondie. You sure know how to run out ona guy..." His grip loosened and his hands fell to rest on her hips. She cupped her hands around his face and kissed him softly.

"I have missed you calling me that..."

"Well, ain't nobody else 'round here that deserves it. Ain't no one near as pretty, either." She smiled at his southern drawl. His hand found the handle of her hunting knife that, in reality, was actually his. "You're where this went off to?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yeah, sorry. I had been sharpening it the day before the attack. It was useful after that, though."

He drew it and whistled. "Took good care 'a it."

"A dirty knife is no where near as threatening as a clean, sharp one," she stated with a grin.

"Walkers don't really care how threatening you look," he pointed out.

She bit her lip. "I might of used it to threaten to cut someone's balls off for calling me Blondie."

He frowned. "Thought you liked bein' called Blondie."

She nodded. "From you, yeah. Not from some bastard who couldn't find his own ass with_ both _hands and a map."

Daryl chuckled. "It's good to have you back, Blondie."


End file.
